


Waking Up with the Winchester Boys

by RoxanneTucker



Series: Riding with the Winchester Boys [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Feels, Bunker Sex, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Incest, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxanneTucker/pseuds/RoxanneTucker
Summary: Sam likes to lie in bed and read on their rare lazy days between hunts. Beth likes to lie there and watch him, Dean snuggled against her back and keeping her warm. There's nothing else she'd rather do, on those rare lazy days. That is, until Sam tosses his book onto the bedside table and turns to her. And Dean wakes up.





	Waking Up with the Winchester Boys

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of the Riding with the Winchester Brothers series. As a "curtain fic," it occurs later in the relationship of Beth and the boys. You know, when they'd be picking out curtains together. The fluff is rich, as well as the smut, and the love between the two brothers is paramount, something both Beth and I deeply respect.

Sam liked to read in bed on lazy mornings. Nine times out of ten on those rare days when they slept in, when Beth got to blink open her eyes naturally instead of startling awake to the smack of Dean's hand on her ass, her first sight was of Sam with his pillow doubled up under his head, reading an old paperback in the meager morning light.

She'd created a window in their bunker bedroom. Natural sunlight was the only thing their home was missing, but it was the one thing she needed after the eons she'd spent in the Closet. She didn't want Dean to have to jeopardize the impenetrable safety of the bunker with the skylights and mirrored venting he'd looked into, so she'd created a spell that reflected the natural outdoors environment in neat rectangles throughout the bunker. Dean had even crafted frames and curtains for them, although he groused every time it rained about why they didn't have windows that looked out on Hawaii. She liked the patter of a Kansas downpour.

She liked the Kansas morning sun that snuck through the curtain gaps and created little gold bars on Sam's gorgeous, gold-toned chest. "You're gonna wreck your eyes," she whispered, snuggling her hands under her cheek to enjoy the view.

He must have been in the middle of a good part. His eyes continued scanning the page in that speed-reading way she thought was fake when she first saw it, the beat-up paperback tiny in his gigantic hand as he kept it propped on his chest and splayed with his fingers. His free hand snagged into the curve of her waist.

Beth's eyelids got a little lazy at the press of that strong forearm against her stomach, the tweak of that elbow against her nipple. The hot, possessive grab of that nicked-up hand, still elegant with its long agile fingers that dug in between her lower back and where Dean was snuggled up against her.

For all of his complaining that Sammy was the octopus, Dean pressed against and protected her back like the word's most manly cling wrap. Strong, hairy legs supported hers, a dense chest cushioned her back, and morning wood snuggled up against her butt. His hand tickled her thigh when his fingertips twitched at his dreams. Comfy in their bed -- an expensive custom-made monster covered in silky cotton sheets -- Dean could sleep in this position for hours more. Beth only disturbed him when nature called. He liked to bury his face in her abundance of hair; it was comforting to feel his warm breath against her nape because she had no idea how he breathed in there.

Beth reached out her left hand and place it on Sam's stomach, his six pack tight and defined in the position he was in. She let a bar of sunlight catch on the ring on her finger, shifting her hand back and forth so the sunlight twirled over the delicate twist of two golds. Her boys had the rings, too, but theirs were thicker, heavier. Different, but all the same -- white and rose gold on Dean's finger, yellow and rose gold on Sam's finger, and white and yellow gold on Beth's finger.

They slept in like this between hunts or on those becoming-more-common vacations she and Sam planned and Dean groused about -- although he was always the one surprising them with secret-beach side trips or celebrity chef cooking courses. Sometimes, on these sleep-in mornings, she'd read over Sam's shoulder. Or ask him to read to her, loving the sound of his warm, soft murmur with the electric blanket of Dean at her back. It was something she would never say, but she was jealous of every woman who'd ever gotten the stroke of that deep, caring voice against her ear, that warm, engulfing body against her back. Most of the time, Beth just lay there, reaching with her gifts and senses to take it all in, etching it into her memory, not wanting to miss a second of this miracle she'd stumbled into. She was terrified she would open her eyes between blinks and find herself back in the Closet, the last five wondrous years the delusion of a young witch who'd lost her mind.

When her powers flickered for a moment at these worries -- when the candles flared or a fly got zipped across the room at ten times its speed or thunder rumbled in a clear sky -- Dean would crush her in his arms and tell her to stop it. Sam would pull her into his lap and whisper love and praise into her ear.

Sam pulled her from her thoughts when he rested his open book down on his chest. He tilted his head to look down at her, his hair stroking over his sharp cheekbones and shadowing his dusky green eyes. "Hey," he whispered. "Hi," she smiled up at him, her cheek still resting on her palm. He closed his book and tossed it onto his bedside table, the thump of the paperback echoing in her accelerating heart beat. He turned on his side and snuggled down until their faces were inches apart. And then he just looked at her, his eyes touching her face like soft sunbeams.

"You want to get up?" he asked. His sleepy smile, so sly, said he already knew her answer.

"Not yet," she murmured, already high off the forest fire smell of him he'd stirred up when he moved.

"Good."

He leaned forward to kiss her and it was lazy and wonderful, soft warm lips stroking hers as his head rested on her pillow, teasing presses with barely any hint of wet for minutes before his tongue tickled her bottom lip, the corner, then stroked into her mouth for slow licks, making her mouth feel like a breakfast buffet and Sam was trying all the flavors. She rubbed her palm against the scrub of his finely etched jaw, pushed his silky hair back when it threatened to get in the way of their lips.

She felt Dean stir behind her as his fingers firmed on her thigh.

"What're you two getting up to?" Dean grumbled, muffled in all of her hair.

Sam let go of her mouth with an audible smack. "Nothing," Beth said, grinning into his eyes, already short of breath. She felt Dean's hot heavy hand travel over her thigh, slide to Sammy's tanned, cut hip. Stroke over his brother's already hard cock.

Dean pushed up on his elbow. "Doesn't feel like nothin' to me," he said in that gravel-scratched voice that made her toes curl against Sam's shins. She watched Sam look up at Dean, saw the warm soft endless love he had for his brother, that same disbelief she felt whenever she was confronted with Dean's beauty. Sam also pushed up to his elbow.

"Mornin'" she heard Dean purr. "Hey," Sam said, soft and sweet. Sam leaned forward to kiss his brother and Beth closed her eyes to better absorb the scrapes of their chins against her skin, the sounds of their lips meeting, the smell of them engulfing her, the press of two aroused warrior men that she was in love with sandwiching her body. Sam wrapped his strong arm around them both, pressing Dean tighter against her back. Dean thumped then grabbed his brother's endlessly long leg, pulling it over both of their hips.

Eyes closed, floating in her man cocoon, Beth asked, "Do you want some time?" She was always aware how delicate and precious the love the two brothers had fought and sacrificed for was, and always gave it room to live and breathe. They loved her and wanted her and needed her -- fought back her demons as well as their own over the years to convince her of that, and then slipped that ring on her finger. And while their relationship with her certainly broke some rules, the Winchester brothers entwined was the love that the universe might reject, for both its majesty and its filth. Beth thought of herself as their guardian, sanctioning that love and, at times, standing outside the door protecting it.

"I'll go make french toast," she murmured, nuzzling a goodbye kiss into Sam's collarbone.

Dean rewarded her considerateness with a pinch to her nipple. "Don't you fucking move," he growled against her neck.

Sam, whose lips had slipped to her temple, chuckled. "Don't leave me alone with this maniac." He slipped down to take her mouth, wholeheartedly and wet, as Dean soothed her aching nipple with the rough tips of his fingers and then stroked her breast softly with the whole of his hand. He nudged his brother with his knuckles. "Lick her for me Sammy," Dean said, holding her breast up for Sam's mouth as he pressed his lips against her shoulder and watched.

With a huff of aroused breath, Sam scootched down and reached with that long, talented tongue to stroke at Beth's nipple before wrapping those pink, pink lips around it. Beth felt her mouth tremble as she watched it all, Dean's big rough hand with its dusting of freckles holding her breast, Sam's mouth and strong jaw sucking and licking to give her pleasure. When he suddenly took her nipple into his teeth and stretched it, his eyes flashed up to hers, devilish to see her reaction.

Beth's cunt clenched against the emptiness.

Dean was a boob guy, but never seemed to mind that hers were barely a handful, certainly didn't seem to mind now as he stroked her breast into his brother's eager mouth and ground his cock against her ass. Beth thought the Busty Beauty mags were as entertaining as all get out and sometimes, on nights when they were all feeling wild and frisky, they'd drive to the strip club in Wichita, select a girl to rub her double D's all over Dean's face while Sam held Beth in his lap and let her drink him under the table. There was a motel in walking distance and the clerk knew them well enough to give them the same room -- at the far end, with only the laundry room as a neighbor -- so guests couldn't hear the sounds she and Sam made as Dean tore them up.

Dean was a boob guy, but Sam -- he was the ass man. He dropped his leg to pull her knee over his hip, stroked his big hand up her thigh, then squeezed that hand around her round-and-high ass cheek, a cheek she was particular proud of -- the results of the conditioning they all groaned about but knew was necessary to keep them alive during hunts. He jiggled it a little, liked its bounce, liked to give it a smack or 20 when he had room. Right now, Dean's hard body and eager cock took up any space behind Beth. She felt Sam grab his brother's cock, felt the brush of his wrist against her ass as he jacked it and Dean groaned, growly and tempting against her shoulder. And then she felt Sam trace the head of Dean's cock against where she was open and wet.

With a slow surge of his magnificent hips, Beth felt Dean push inside, Sam's tight hold adding to the clench of her pussy.

"Fuck," Dean groaned, his hands hooked over her shoulders. "You're so wet. Why're you so wet?"

Beth tilted her head back as she laughed, hearing some of Dean's morning gravel in her own voice. "I've spent the morning laying between two gorgeous men I'm in love with," she said, anchoring her knee higher on Sam's body and arching back her hips, taking Dean deeper. "I'm not wet; I'm a flood."

Both men groaned, deep vibrations through their bed, as Dean responded, pounding three hard fast strokes into her before stopping, panting, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Sammy..." Dean swallowed, and hearing this powerful man become desperate was one of Beth's favorite sounds. "Sammy, get your hand off my dick."

"And if I don't?" Sam said, muffled as he licked the skin between her breasts.

Nothing straightened Dean's spine -- and hardened his cock -- like a challenge. He rolled his hips against her, his cock thrumming at her insides. "If you don't, I'm not going to let you have any of this sweet pussy."

Beth felt herself becoming a little desperate as Dean let go of her shoulders to press his chest against her, to push her hair aside and lick her neck as he surged his hips and met Sam's eyes over her shoulder. "I'm gonna make this pussy come and cry and you're not going to get any of it. You're just gonna have to lick up her cream."

"Fuck, Dean," Sam groaned, abruptly letting go of Dean's cock to grab onto his own at the base. Beth knew he was sensitive, but she couldn't keep her fingers from trailing over the shiny slick at his head as Dean pulsed into her, from grabbing onto the long thick meat and jacking it. Dean's strong fingers curled over her own and he made the grip punishing.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean moaned into her ear. "Jesus, she feels good. So warm. So tight." There was an audible sound now as her body slicked his way. Both she and Sam were fools for Dean's voice. "So wet. It's like pushing into hot apple pie. You 'member that movie, Sammy?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Sam lurched as their joined hands flashed over his cock, just that edge of pain that Sam loved. "Fuck you, Dean."

Dean was straight out chuckling now, evil and dirty in her ear. "Yeah, sweet and thick as warm cream." Beth couldn't help it, she giggled as she gasped and moaned. "Hot. Drowning."

"Shut the fuck up Dean," Sam cursed and it was all wrong and in no way right, but Beth could just hear the teenage boy in Sam's deep voice, that child made petulant and crazed by his beautiful older brother.

With a swiftness that had Beth lurching and biting into Sam's hard pec, Dean swiped that beautiful cock out of her body.

"Here you go, baby brother," Dean soothed, aiming his brother's dick toward her cunt as he gave a tap with his hips to push her toward him. "She's fucking beautiful."

Burying his head in her neck and surrounding her in his arms, Sam sank into her with a groan as Dean wrapped his arm over them.

Tears gathered in Beth's eyes as she took in the differences and the similarities, Sam's longer cock with a little less girth pulsing into her, his hips working beneath her thigh, silent as he mouthed her neck and tried to get back under control, keeping the pleasure while sloughing off some of the desperation Dean was so good at working them into. "Sam," Beth moaned, understanding him so well. "Sam." Loving Dean was like holding on to a live wire, overwhelming, painfully pleasurable, heart-attack inducing. Sometimes it was more than one person could take. Beth felt she was sent to help Sam absorb and withstand that massive power.

When the surge of his hips became less desperate, less stuttery, Sam raised his head from her neck and invaded her mouth, kissed and tasted and tongued at her with the same focused intensity he brought to everything he did, making her feel so lucky to be the one under his wide, generous mouth. Pulling back, he tucked against her and ground that steel-hard-and-silky pelvis against her clit. "Dean's an asshole, but he's right," Sam breathed, those forest eyes looking into her. "You are fucking beautiful."

She smiled around her open-mouthed gasp as Dean grumped "Hey!" against her hair, sliding his wet dick along the crack of her ass in perfect synchronicity with Sam's thrusts.

“’S’okay,” she moaned, freeing her arm from the weight of theirs to dig her fingers into Dean’s hard, hot, flexing hip. “Don’t be grumpy. Take my ass.”

Dean jerked-thrust against the soft skin. But his lick up her neck was gentle. “No, baby doll. Just your sweet pussy,” he said against her skin. “Give me more of that sweet, wet pussy. I can wait.”

“Fuck you two,” Sam groaned, mouthing at her shoulder. “You make me want to pound you into the mattress.” Beth knew he wasn’t talking to just her. Her pussy clenched at him as he pulled that long, perfect, golden rod of a dick away and out of her. He engulfed her hip in his big hand and pushed her back toward his brother. “Take her Dean. Let me watch you fuck our girl.”

Sam’s “our girl” shot up Beth’s spine like his tongue on her clit as Dean grabbed her thigh and lifted it, spreading her as he pushed inside of her. “You wanna watch, Sammy?” Dean purred as he slid his penis in then back out, slow, with her knee hooked in his hot rough hand. “You want to see her pretty pink pussy let me in? Watch her get me all slick and shiny?”

Beth shuddered and moaned, writhing in his grip, at his words, his sandpaper voice, the slow roll of those hips that she’d first discovered on a honky tonk dance floor, Sam’s hungry sharp gaze as he stared at her pussy and his brother’s cock like he was calculating ways to make them scream. She shoved back Sam’s hair that threatened to block her view of his eyes and he bit -- then licked -- her wrist, never taking his eyes off of her.

Sam raised his hands to his mouth, sucked in the first two fingers of each hand, licked them while he watched them fuck. Beth and Dean groaned simultaneously.

Both she and Sam teased Dean about his plush porn star lips, lips he would grumble about although he’d take every opportunity he could to suck on a popsicle or lick ketchup off his fingers until she or Sam put their mouths around his junk just to get him to stop. But it was Sam’s mouth – wide and generous and fucking, fucking agile and enthusiastic – that was truly porn star filthy, that could really make Dean and Beth cry and scream as he held them open with those powerful arms and made them take it. Beth’s first orgasm had been under that mouth. Her response was Pavolvian now as she watched it wet his fingers, the beginning sparks of an orgasm she didn’t want yet sparkling up the backs of her thighs.

With those beautiful long fingers pulled out of his mouth with an audible “pop” and began to reach for her and Dean, Beth turned her face into the pillow and began mentally reciting the formula for the anti-dust spell she’d devised for the bunker. When those two wet, thick fingertips brushed her clit, when she felt Dean jerk and hiss, “Fuuuuuuck,” behind her, she began mumbling it against her pillow.

“Acanthus root, two drops of marjoram, eucalyptus needle…” she murmured like she was drunk, her hips swiveling helplessly as those fingertips strummed and stroked at her, teasing, soft, determined to pleasure her instead of getting her off. But Sam may not have any choice in the matter as Dean’s rhythm picked up, his hips stuttering and then sinking deeper, responding – Beth knew – to his little brother tickling then pulsing two ambidextrous long fingers into his ass, seducing and making love to him with twists and thrusts.

Sam was all subtle shock, the singular earth-cracking bolt of lightening on an otherwise peaceful day. His enormous brain, the surprising carnival delights he could pull from its dependable thoughtfulness, was as much of a turn on as his tall, perfect, mindblowing body.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean grunted as he pulled out of her in a long, hot slide. His skin was damp at her back; Beth was panting , sweating at her roots. Dean dropped her thigh to grab his brothers rippling waist. “You first, baby. Make her come.”

Sam whipped up was a demanding animal and he pulled his fingers from his brothers body to shove her back, his lips curled and dimples deep as he turned Dean into the world’s best mattress, giving Sam something hard to pound Beth against as he shoved his hips between her thighs and into her. Beth keened against his shoulder, then bit as Sam began to fuck her, bouncing her off his brother, pushing up on a massive arm to watch his cock slide into her, drag his eyes all over her body, to stare possessed into her eyes before reaching his free hand to stroke the scrub of his brother’s cheek.

With Sam staring at his brother, Beth knew he was ready. She was so ready. She squeezed her inner muscles once – muscles of a hunter and a woman who had constant sex with two huge and powerful men – and had Sam losing the strength in his arm, dropping his head against her breasts. Twice and she was seeing stars as Sam ground against her, groaning as he rolled his forehead. Three times and Sam lost it, thrusting and grinding and coming – “Beth. Fucking Beth, holy shit.” -- as Dean anchored her hips in place, making her take whatever his brother was willing to give as Beth showered him with her own spine-arching orgasm, hearing Dean’s desperate pants in her ear over her groans.

As Sam’s cock – still stiff and spine-tingling – began to slow inside of her, she could make out Dean’s gasping words. “Don’t want to come on your ass, not going to come on your ass, fuck, fuck, not going to ….”

Sam slid out of her. "C'mon, beautiful," he slurred against her jaw, maneuvering her back to her side. "Take my brother. Do to him what you did to me."

Like Sam had unlocked his chains, Dean pounced on her, dragging her thigh over his hip, surrounding her with an arm under neck and another around her breasts, and yanking her face toward him for her first deep, hungry kiss from him of the morning while he sank into her body. Her cunt was a sopping mess, making it effortless to take his girth. He grunted before pulling his mouth away from hers, keeping her face in his hand and staring down at her while he fucked her in deep, relentless strokes.

"Mornin'" he said, as her eyes flickered over the beauty of him -- that mouth, the sweaty jaw etched in scruff, freckles she liked to kiss and tongue, age lines that marked every unbelievable bonus year this self-sacrificing man had been given.

She replied the only way she could: "Love you."

His smile caught the morning light, more gritted teeth then grin, before scrambling out a hand to drag his brother close. "Sammy," he groaned, burying his face in his brother's neck.

Sam surrounded them both in his arms, pulled them against the shelter of his massive body. He gazed down at Beth, the naked emotion bright in his eyes with his brother tucked up against him. "We love you, too, Beth. We love you so fucking much."

This time, the hard clench of Beth's body was completely involuntary as she began to come, lurching in their hold, forcing a harsh bark out of Dean and an answering moan out of Sam before her heart shoved aside all of their brains and took total mastery of the situation, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her cunt, luring a jittering flooding orgasm out of Dean as he howled into Sam's shoulder, Sam gripping them tight and getting half hard again against Beth's thigh. The orgasm went on forever, a sweaty, kinky, earthbound paradise for three people who knew the landscape of heaven and hell. The pleasure didn't end, only slowly rolled back, like a retreating wave that left them wet and comfy and languid. Left Beth gasping and trembling and engulfed in the smell and sweat and skin and strength of her lovers, her two best friends, and her two husbands, Sam and Dean Winchester.

Sam fell back against the pillows. Beth collapsed against his shoulder. Dean plunked his head between her shoulder blades. They lay like that until their heart rates slowed down and -- without their knowledge -- their breaths relaxed to gentle matching rhythms.

They might get up now. Dean might crawl over them to go start the coffee while Sam and Beth showered, got the loofah ready for the back scrub Dean always insisted upon. They might stay in bed a little longer, Beth's eyelids already getting heavy as she soaked in Sam and Dean's warmth. She didn't think she had another round in her, although she never knew when Dean was going to announce a "Naked Day" on their days off.

Their lives were treacherous. Their pasts were horrifying. Their futures -- well, they still had a responsibility to all of those nameless humans who would never say thank you. If Sam and Dean and Beth did their jobs right, those humans would never know they needed to say thank you.

The three of them didn't know which day was marked as their last. So they would embrace this day that stretched before them with nothing to do and nowhere to be. As three people who knew the faces of things awful and magnificent, who never had the luxury of boredom or taking life for granted, they would appreciate this day for the miracle that it was, even if all today amounted to was lying in bed in love.


End file.
